


New Beginnings

by Auriana Valoria (AuriV1)



Series: Herald of Change [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Family Feels, Gen, Good Templars (Dragon Age), Mage-Templar Dynamics (Dragon Age), Ostwick Circle (Dragon Age), Trevelyan (Dragon Age) has Sibling(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22932733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuriV1/pseuds/Auriana%20Valoria
Summary: Circle Apprentice Verana-Kathryn Trevelyan gets a pleasant surprise visit from her older Templar brother. But he brings ill tidings from their family, and both siblings begin to feel more like orphans than children of a noble house.
Series: Herald of Change [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636348
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	New Beginnings

_Ostwick Circle of Magi, the Free Marches; 9:26 Dragon_

“Apprentice Trevelyan? You have a visitor.”

The Templar at the door spoke with a rather bored tone, the sound hollow in his helmet as he curtly nodded to Donovan to let him know he could proceed into the room beyond. Donovan’s own helm tucked under his arm, he smoothed his messy shock of hair back from his face and tentatively peeked into the small study.

He had not seen his sister in five long years, and she had grown so much since then; no longer a mere girl of eight, she was now a young teen. She sat at a small, oak desk that faced the stone wall, scribbling away notes on a piece of parchment as she held a massive tome open with her other hand. He noticed that her hair was now maintained at shoulder-length rather than falling to her waist. She wore it in a loose ponytail, raven-black bangs framing her pale face, which rarely saw sun. Halfway between childhood and adulthood, she had a petite and relatively light frame, making her silky, pale blue apprentice robes appear a tad too big for her. Her feet, garbed in matching satin slippers, were crossed and tucked under her chair, and her long sleeves were rolled up to keep them from falling into the wet ink as she wrote.

She glanced up upon hearing the Templar’s voice and footsteps in the room. At first, she frowned, her brow furrowed with slight irritation upon being interrupted. But when she recognized Donovan, her blue-violet eyes widened, and her swan-feather quill plopped messily onto her notes as her mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“ _Donny!_ ”

Verana sprang from her chair and raced into her brother’s outstretched arms, throwing her own about his neck and hugging him fiercely. She laughed and cried at the same time, and he found that tears were springing in his own eyes, too, as he squeezed her just as tightly.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Verana.”

They embraced each other long and hard before Donovan finally pushed back from her a bit and smiled sheepishly at her. “Sorry I missed your birthday. I promise you, if I could have come on that day, I would have.”

She smiled back gently, “Don’t worry about it. You still surprised me. Better late than never, right?”

Neither of them noticed the Templar outside closing the door until it softly clicked shut, at which Donovan started a bit, but Verana seemed unsurprised. Pulling back from Donovan, she sniffed quietly and half-smiled, jerking her thumb at the door. “That’s Ser Tomas. He’s a bit grumpy sometimes, but he’s actually really nice. He just likes his quiet… that’s why he’s stationed around me most of the time.” She gestured to a chair wedged between a tall bookshelf and her desk. “Come on and have a seat.”

Donovan chuckled at her words, following her and sitting down at the chair. Setting his helm on the one patch of bare desktop, he then asked tentatively, “So… you haven’t had any trouble… you know…” he gestured at his uniform.

Verana looked away momentarily, thinking, and then shrugged as she, too, sat. “Not really. There was that time a recruit thought it would be funny to push me down the library stairs.” She frowned, then pulled the hem of her robes up to her knee and pointed at a pale, jagged scar on her left kneecap. “I didn’t see him again after that.” She then smiled up at him. “No, the Templars aren’t bad here. They mostly just leave us alone so long as we leave them alone.” Leaning close, she whispered, “Sometimes I get Ser Tomas to get books off of shelves I can’t reach. He complains a lot, but he never says no.”

Donovan chuckled, briefly wondering if someday he would have apprentices asking him to reach books on high shelves back at Markham. It was certainly an amusing notion, and he resolved that if that was as much difficulty as he would have as a Templar, he would be perfectly satisfied fetching books for the rest of his life.

They chattered away for an hour or two after that, mostly light talk about their new friends, or fascinating things they had learned over the years, or sharing stories about funny moments they had had during their early training, when they were first starting on their current paths. Ultimately, though, Donovan asked, “Your Harrowing will be coming in a few years, right? Your tutoring should be preparing you for it. How are your lessons going?”

She sighed heavily, glancing at the clutter atop the desk. “Boring really. We’re not allowed to practice casting spells all the time, of course. Only with a bunch of other mages present and watching us. Mostly we study. Maybe mix some potions from time to time… something I’m not too great at.” Her cheeks reddened a bit, and she looked over the haphazardly piled books around her. “I have an examination tomorrow. ‘Denizens of the Fade and their Weaknesses.’”

Donovan smirked. “That sounds positively abysmal.”

She shrugged again. “Not really. Just… intense.” Then, frowning, she asked, “What about your training?”

He paused, not really expecting her to ask about him. He had just been fully initiated as a Knight-Templar only a few months previous. Dare he tell her about the ceremony? The vigil and the initiation? And after that, the first taste of lyrium draught on his lips? His mind wandered as he recalled the moment, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could still hear that mystical song, whispering in his blood…

“It’s over,” he finally said with a half-smile. “I’m officially ‘Ser Donovan,’ now.”

Her face broke out into a wide grin. “I _thought_ so! You’ve got the armor after all.” She looked him up and down as if seeing him for the first time.

“So I do.” He chuckled a little. “Still getting used to it, actually.”

“It suits you,” she said cheerfully, tapping his pauldron. “I’m sure mother and father would be proud.”

At the mention of their parents, his mirthful smile quickly faded. “Yes… I’m sure.”

“Have you… have you heard anything from them?” she inquired tentatively, her amethyst gaze suddenly distant.

He felt his brow furrow, slightly puzzled. “Yes. Mother writes every month or so.”

“Oh?” Her own brow rose. “I haven’t gotten anything.”

Donovan’s jaw dropped like a rock. “Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

He felt his heart plummet to the floor. Five years and not a word from her own parents. All this time he had thought she was getting the same letters he was. Now he knew that she truly was alone all this time, and it made him sick to his stomacn. No wonder she had reacted the way she had when she first saw him. It was the first time she had had contact from any family member in five years.

Five. Damned. Years.

He sighed forcefully to keep the tears of emotion in his eyes from spilling out. Rising to his feet, he paced around the room to keep from punching something. Verana seemed confused at this sudden change in behavior and she asked quietly, “Donovan… are you all right?”

“I can’t believe it. They didn’t tell you anything? Didn’t ask you anything? Didn’t care enough to even see if you were still alive?”

Her face was solemn, and she replied simply. “I’m a mage.”

He shook his head, a snarl on his lips. Communication between himself and Verana was naturally limited by restrictions of the Circle and the Order… but her own parents? They were _Banns_ in the same damned city as the Circle, for Andraste’s sake. They could have just _walked_ into the place and asked to see her without issue…

“Then I guess you don’t know about Jocelyn.” He threw his hands in the air in sheer frustration.

“Jocelyn?” Verana’s expression shifted first to one of surprise, and then to one of concern. “What about her? Is she all right?”

He shook his head again and shrugged. “Maker only knows. She ran away about a year after you were taken from us. Father arranged a marriage with Lord Seigwar’s eldest son and Jocelyn was vocal about it, as you might imagine. Roland lost his temper, as usual, and threw mother’s Tevinter porcelain vase at her. It shattered and bloodied her face. She ran from the estate and has been missing ever since. My guess?” He looked at the floor, studying the cracks between the stones. “She went to the Chantry, got cleaned up, and then bought or begged her way out of town. She may be a cloistered sister in another city, now. Or she could be dead, for all we know.”

“Father doesn’t care?”

Donovan snorted disgustedly. “Father only cares if you’re the good little child. The perfect Trevelyan.”

Verana’s brow furrowed, and her eyes darkened. “Is that why they haven’t written me? Not just because I’m a mage… because I’m imperfect?” She looked visibly distressed now, and her voice became thick with emotion, “Because Dawn and I ruined the family’s blood?”

“The family blood was already ‘ruined,’ if mages make blood impure.” Donovan crossed his arms atop his breastplate. “Someone somewhere in the family was a mage if you and Dawn inherited magic. And don’t think Father doesn’t know. He’s blamed mother for it all.”

“ _What?!_ ”

Donovan chuckled again, but the sound was not a mirthful one this time. “Yes… Mother found a way to sneak that one in her letters to me. He blames her for it all. She fears he wants to go to the Revered Mother and ask for an annulment to their marriage. He thinks some magic in her side of the family is what started all this… what broke the family apart.”

He watched her as she looked away, and he hoped that his words assured her that she didn’t cause all of this… that the breakup of the family wasn’t her fault. Or Dawn’s. Or even Jocelyn’s. He moved closer to her, putting a hand on her slender shoulder and squeezing. “Honestly, I’m glad I’m not a part of it anymore. No matter the troubles in Markham, they pale in comparison to the turmoil at home. And at least here, in the Circle, you aren’t a part of it either. You’re safe from it.”

She swallowed forcefully to suppress her emotions. “But Roland gets everything. He has all of the rest of us gone, now, just like he always wanted. And if Father divorces Mother, then it will be just the two of them.”

“Let them have it all,” Donovan remarked bitterly. “If it means so much. If the Bannship is more important. If the Trevelyan name is not a family but a title… and for an elite few at that.”

“But, Donovan,” she protested, glanced up at him with her eyes glittering with emotion in the candlelight. “This… this isn’t how it’s supposed to be…”

Her look broke his heart. He felt tears stinging his own eyes again, and he leaned down to wrap her up in his arms. “I know, Verana. I know.”

He held her as she sobbed into his armored shoulder, mourning the loss of a family she never knew. And Donovan, too, mourned, feeling just the same as she. It was as if the rest of their siblings and even their parents were already dead. Both of them were severed from the Trevelyans, just for two different reasons, and neither of them would be able to claim any connections to the family… not ever. Both were expected to serve the Chantry and the Circle for the rest of their days… sacrifice their entire being to a greater good. But that greater good was, more than anything else, a preservation of the ideal family name. A name they could no longer possess, but yet still had to uphold…

Seeing the shortness of the candle and knowing his time with her was growing short, he knelt, taking both her hands in his and gripping them tightly to hold her attention. He implored her with urgency in his voice, seized by a sudden fervor, “Listen to me, Verana, and listen well. I will _never_ forget about you. I will always think of you and pray for you every day. I will pray that the Maker gives you the knowledge and strength to pass your Harrowing… that he guides you and drives you and grants you all the inspiration you need to grow in power and wisdom and control. And I will pray with all my might that you, my little sister, will show the world that a Trevelyan mage is worth more than a dozen of Father and Roland. The Templars may prevent me from sending you messages, but they cannot erase you from my thoughts. You may be a mage, but you are also my sister, and no matter how emotionless they wish me to be towards my charges, I refuse to reduce you to nothingness.” He squeezed her hands. “Be strong, Verana. Stronger than all the rest. Stronger than Father, stronger than Roland… stronger than me. And if, Maker forbid, you ever need me,” his hazel eyes were blazing, “I will know. And nothing in the world will be able to stop me from reaching you. From protecting you. As an elder brother should.”

Verana bowed her head to hide the fresh tears streaming down her face. “And…I won’t forget you, either, Donovan. I will pray for you, too. That the Templars don’t make you too hard. That you will find peace in your duty. That you will be happy.” Her eyes met his. “Please… be careful. You might fight demons and apostates, maybe even blood mages, and… please, just be careful. There are so many tricks and temptations out there…”

“I know,” he replied solemnly. “And heed your own advice, sister. Your will is strong, but you mustn’t be overconfident. You are much more vulnerable than I am. Never forget that.”

“I won’t.” She nodded, in her tone a promise. Then, after a few moments, she added quietly, “You… you have to go now, don’t you?”

He glanced away, swallowing hard. “Yes, Verana.” He didn’t want to elaborate on just how much he had to beg and plead with his superiors for just a few hours with his sister.

Verana then slid from her chair onto the floor, still gripped by her hands. “You know Benedictions, right?”

“Of course,” he replied, knowing the popular passage she likely had in mind quite well.

“Pray with me?” she asked, almost shyly.

He nodded his agreement, and they both bowed their heads:

“ _Blessed are they who stand before  
The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.  
Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. _

_Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.  
In their blood the Maker's will is written._”

There was a small moment of silence before they both punctuated the prayer with “So let it be.”

At that, he pulled her to her feet and stepped back. “Let’s just hope that neither of our blood will be used as ink, eh, sister?”

He was pleased when that elicited a small smile from her. He couldn’t leave her on such a serious note. He hoped that between his own words and the prayer they shared that she would be granted the courage to face the future, whatever that might be.

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you again, but,” he paused, “I _will_ see you again. I promise you.”

She smiled gently once more, and he knew she understood. “I believe it, Donny. I believe it.”

And then he left without saying goodbye. Because goodbyes were endings, and he was certain that this was just the start of something new for both of them…


End file.
